jrt.the hobbit-第52部分
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Fire leaped from thatched roofs and wooden beam…ends as he hurtled down and past and round again； though all had been drenched with water before he came。 Once more water was flung by a hundred hands wherever a spark appeared。 Back swirled the dragon。 A sweep of his tail and the roof of the Great House crumbled and smashed down。 Flames unquenchable sprang high into the night。 Another swoop and another； and another house and then another sprang afire and fell； and still no arrow hindered Smaug or hurt him more than a fly from the marshes。 Already men were jumping into the water on every side。 Women and children were being huddled into laden boats in the market…pool。 Weapons were flung down。 There was mourning and weeping； where but a little time ago the old songs of mirth to e had been sung about the dwarves。 Now men cursed their names。 The Master himself was turning to his great gilded boat； hoping to row away in the confusion and save himself。 Soon all the town would be deserted and burned down to the surface of the lake。 That was the dragon's hope。 They could all get into boats for all he cared。 There he could have fine sport hunting them； or they could stop till they starved。 Let them try to get to land and he would be ready。 Soon he would set all the shoreland woods ablaze and wither every field and pasture。 Just now he was enjoying the sport of town…baiting more than he had enjoyed anything for years。 But there was still a pany of archers that held their ground among the burning houses。 Their captain was Bard； grim…voiced and grim…faced； whose friends had accused him of prophesying floods and poisoned fish； though they knew his worth and courage。 He was a descendant in long line of Girion； Lord of Dale； whose wife and child had escaped down the Running River from the ruin long ago。 Now he shot with a great yew bow； till all his arrows but one were spent。 The flames were near him。 His panions were leaving him。 He bent his bow for the last time。 Suddenly out of the dark something fluttered to his shoulder。 He started…but it was only an old thrush。 Unafraid it perched by his ear and it brought him news。 Marvelling he found he could understand its tongue； for he was of the race of Dale。
〃Wait！ Wait！〃 it said to him。 〃The moon is rising。 Look for the hollow of the left breast as he flies and turns above you！〃 And while Bard paused in wonder it told him of tidings up in the Mountain and of all that it had heard。 Then Bard drew his bow…string to his ear。 The dragon was circling back； flying low； and as he came the moon rose above the eastern shore and silvered his great wings。
〃Arrow！〃 said the bowman。 〃Black arrow！ I have saved you to the last。 You have never failed me and always I have recovered you。 I had you from my father and he from of old。 If ever you came from the forges of the true king under the Mountain； go now and speed well！〃
The dragon swooped once more lower than ever； and as he turned and dived down his belly glittered white with sparkling fires of gems in the moon…but not in one place。 The great bow twanged。 The black arrow sped straight from the string； straight for the hollow by the left breast where the foreleg was flung wide。 In it smote and vanished； barb； shaft and feather； so fierce was its flight。 With a shriek that deafened men； felled trees and split stone； Smaug shot spouting into the air； turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin。
Full on the town he fell。 His last throes splintered it to sparks and gledes。 The lake roared in。 A vast steam leaped up； white in the sudden dark under the moon。 There was a hiss； a gushing whirl； and then silence。 And that was the end of Smaug and Esgaroth； but not of Bard。 The waxing moon rose higher and higher and the wind grew loud and cold。 It twisted the white fog into bending pillars and hurrying clouds and drove it off to the West to scatter in tattered shreds over the marshes before Mirkwood。 Then the many boats could be seen dotted dark on the surface of the lake； and down the wind came the voices of the people of Esgaroth lamenting their lost town and goods and ruined houses。 But they had really much to be thankful for； had they thought of it； though it could hardly be expected that they should just then： three quarters of the people of the town had at least escaped alive； their woods and fields and pastures and cattle and most of their boats remained undamaged； and the dragon was dead。 What that meant they had not yet realized。 They gathered in mournful crowds upon the western shores； shivering in the cold wind； and their first plaints and anger were against the Master； who had left the town so soon； while some were still willing to defend it。 〃He may have a good head for business…especially his own business；〃 some murmured； 〃but he is no good when anything serious happens！〃 And they praised the courage of Bard and his last mighty shot。 〃If only he had not been killed；〃 they all said； 〃we would make him a king。 Bard the Dragon…shooter of the line of Girion！ Alas that he is lost！〃
And in the very midst of their talk； a tall figure stepped from the shadows。 He was drenched with water； his black hair hung wet over his face and shoulders； and a fierce light was in his eyes。
〃Bard is not lost！〃 he cried。 〃He dived from Esgaroth； when the enemy was slain。 I am Bard； of the line of Girion； I am the slayer of the dragon！〃 〃King Bard！ King Bard！〃 they shouted； but the Master ground his chattering teeth。
〃Girion was lord of Dale； not king of Esgaroth；〃 he said。 〃In the Lake…town we have always elected masters from among the old and wise； and have not endured the rule of mere fighting men。 Let 'King Bard' go back to his own kingdom…Dale is now freed by his valour； and nothing binders his return。 And any that wish can go with him； if they prefer the cold shores under the shadow of the Mountain to the green shores of the lake。 The wise will stay here and hope to rebuild our town； and enjoy again in time its peace and riches。〃 〃We will have King Bard！〃 the people near at hand shouted in reply。 〃We have had enough of the old men and the money…counters！〃 And people further off took up the cry： 〃Up the Bowman； and down with Moneybags；〃 till the clamour echoed along the shore。
〃I am the last man to undervalue Bard the Bowman；〃 said the Master warily （for Bard now stood close beside him）。 〃He has tonight earned an eminent place in the roll of the benefactors of our town； and he is worthy of many imperishable songs。 But； why O People？〃…and here the Master rose to his feet and spoke very loud and clear … 〃why do I get all your blame？ For what fault am I to be deposed？ Who aroused the dragon from his slumber； I might ask？ Who obtained of us rich gifts and ample help； and led us to believe that old songs could e true？ Who played on our soft hearts and our pleasant fancies？ What sort of gold have they sent down the river to reward us？ Dragon…fire and ruin！ From whom should we claim the repense of our damage； and aid for our widows and orphans？〃
As you see； the Master had not got his position for nothing。 The result of his words was that for the moment the people quite forgot their idea of a new king； and turned their angry thoughts towards Thorin and his pany。 Wild and bitter words were shouted from many sides； and some of those who had before sung the old songs loudest； were now heard as loudly crying that the dwarves had stirred the dragon up against them deliberately！ 〃Fools！〃 said Bard。 〃Why waste words and wrath on those unhappy creatures？ Doubtless they perished first in fire； before Smaug came to us。〃 Then even as he was speaking； the thought came into his heart of the fabled treasure of the Mountain lying without guard or owner； and he fell suddenly silent。 He thought of the Master's words； and of Dale rebuilt； and filled with golden bells； if he could but find the men。
At length he spoke again： 〃This is no time for angry words。 Master； or for considering weighty plans of change。 There is work to do。 I serve you still…though after a while I may think again of your words and go North with any that will follow me。〃
Then he strode off to help in the ordering of the camps and in the care of the sick and the wounded。 But the Master scowled
